


The Conquest

by Skara_Brae



Series: The Conquest [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Historical, Bondage, Dean's a wizard, Drugged Sex, Forced Bonding, M/M, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sex Magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-30
Updated: 2012-12-30
Packaged: 2017-11-23 00:47:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/616200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skara_Brae/pseuds/Skara_Brae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean Winchester was the most powerful wizard the kingdom had ever seen. But his control was fraying. Desperate, Dean is forced to chose a consort in the hopes that it will help him regain control.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Conquest

**Author's Note:**

> *Please see warnings.
> 
> Many, many thanks to **Spacebabe** for her patience and insight. All remaining mistakes and inconsistencies are my own.

Dean paced back and forth across the floor, the scuff of his boots barely audible over the driving rain outside. He felt his pulse quicken at the knock at the door. He crossed the room and pulled it open quickly. His eyes met his brother’s. Sam gave him a tight smile, then raised his arm and gently propelled the man beside him across the threshold and into the room. Dean nodded at Sam; Sam nodded back and then headed back down the hallway. Dean shut and locked the door. For a moment he considered opening it again and following Sam down the hall. He didn’t want this, but… He pressed his forehead into the hard wood and took a deep breath. But he had to. 

He turned and saw his guest had already crossed the room and was currently examining the far wall, slowing tracing the patterns of stones with his fingers. 

“Castiel,” Dean called to him, but the man didn’t seem to hear him. He walked forward and grabbed the other man’s shoulder, turning him around. Dean sighed. The man’s eyes were glazed, his pupils blown wide. He squinted at some distant point over Dean’s shoulder. It was clear he had no idea where he was or what he was doing. So much for small talk. Dean’s lips twisted as he remembered the defiance and skepticism in Castiel’s eyes just a few hours earlier. There was no trace of it now. Bobby had said Castiel had expressed doubt about his own innate magic ability. Well, there would be no doubt soon enough. 

Castiel turned back to the wall, running his long fingers over the stone. Dean gently turned the man to face him again. This time, their eyes met and Dean felt his own magic flicker. It was quickly echoed by a rumble of thunder outside. Perhaps they had better get started.

Except he stopped, once again, letting his grip go lax. Part of him still rebelled against this. He was Dean Winchester, after all. He was one of the most powerful sorcerers ever known. It was remarked that his childhood outbursts coincided remarkably with high winds and rainstorms, and his adolescent tantrums tended to produce electrical storms. His skills were all innate. Not that he was unwilling to learn, it was just that he grasped most of the skills instinctually. And even ones that he didn’t, he rarely had to be showed how to do something more than once. At 16, he managed to produce a hurricane on demand, just in time to turn back an invading army’s force.

By then, he was known far and wide as the most powerful sorcerer in all the lands. His father had been awarded title upon title by the king, who seemed to know he could be overthrown by these Winchester upstarts in the merest instant. They now owned more land than they knew what to do with, and their wealth was more than they could ever spend.

However, as Dean grew older his powers had grown erratic, though no less powerful. When he was in a foul mood, fog covered the land for weeks. When he was angry, bizarre lightning strikes claimed lives and livestock over three counties. At first, Dean had denied that these events were in any way connected with him. It was coincidence, mere happenstance. The last straw, as it had been, was when during a presentation of the playwright Shurley’s (admittedly very boring) latest work, it had actually started raining directly over the theater, but nowhere else. The very popular ale stand, just next door, remained dry as dust. Dean, try as he might, could not disrupt these weather events his own moods were creating.

Castiel had found the open window and was sitting on the wide sill, a hand reached out to feel the driving rain. Fear lanced through Dean as he imagined the other man falling from the window. Before he was even aware of it, he was across the room and pulling Castiel away. Castiel stumbled, and Dean caught him in his arms. Dean felt the surge just before the thunder roared outside, loud enough for both of them to flinch.

Dean’s family had worried, even before he had admitted that he was unable to control these manifestations of his temper. They feared that Dean, like so many other powerful wizards, would have to lock himself in a tower somewhere, away from any outside stimuli in an attempt to remove himself from his own destructive influence. Of course, this meant his powers would be driven inward, and he would slowly go mad. His family refused to consider to this, however. They were not willing to part with their beloved son and brother, so they used their wealth to search for other powerful sorcerers, mages, and wizards, who may have alternative solutions.

What they found after constant searching (even though they kept it from Dean until much later) was a retired sorcerer called Robert Singer. Robert (though he preferred to be called Bobby) had been moved by the pleas of Dean’s desperate parents and agreed to examine Dean. Dean couldn’t help smiling as he recalled the “examination”. It had ended in a spectacular screaming match. Bobby had been, frankly, unimpressed with “this upstart idjit” and his fraying control, and Dean had been highly insulted that this rather unimpressive old coot was daring to criticize him. Hadn’t he heard of the feats of magic Dean had performed?

It ended when Bobby had taken Dean into the Great Hall of the Winchester House and ordered everyone to leave and all the doors shut. Dean never told anyone what had occurred, but he had been shown what a true magic-yielder was. Afterwards, Bobby had quickly become a mentor to him.

Castiel struggled in his grip momentarily, but the drugged wine had weakened him. Dean adjusted and tightened his grip in response, and after a few moments, Castiel lapsed into passivity again, distracted, apparently, by the smell of Dean’s neck. He pressed his nose against it and inhaled deeply. Dean jerked back from this intimacy. He reached up to grab the man’s hair, forced Castiel to meet his eyes.

“I don’t want this,” Dean growled. Castiel merely cocked his head in response to the sound of his voice, then tried to lean up and smell Dean’s neck again.

Dean didn’t want this. But even with Bobby’s guidance, he had failed to improve. His magic continued to be erratic and his moods destructive. Finally, at a family dinner, Bobby declared that there was only one option left. “He needs a consort.” A stunned silence had met this pronouncement, and then Sam, had finally ventured, “A what?” 

Bobby had explained a bit more thoroughly. Powerful wizards required a consort, or a soul bond. This person had to be someone with the power to soak up the extraneous energy a sorcerer produced. Once they were brought together, the wizard and the consort would be bonded for the rest of their lives, allowing them to achieve a balance which they previously may not have known. 

Dean had refused to consider the idea at first. There was no way he was going to be dependent on someone else. Bonded to someone else, forever. His family immediately leapt in; His mother pleaded, his father demanded, Sam reasoned and argued. Dean refused to be moved. Bobby rolled his eyes. It went on for days, and even Dean’s family started to lose hope. Then it had started raining. 

It was the wettest fall anyone could remember. Traditional bonfires had to be cancelled because there were no dry leaves to burn. Farmers fretted about their fields, but most tried to shake it off as an anomaly. But it was followed by an incredibly warm, wet winter. Children complained at the lack of snow, but of greater concern was the six inches of mud blanketing the roads. Landowners worried about the spring. If things continued, the fields would be ruined and there would be no harvest next fall. Something had to be done. 

Dean tried everything he could to stop rain. Once, he could have stopped it with a mere wave of his arm, pushed all the clouds away and arranged for a hot baking sun. Now, whatever he tried seemed to make it worse. After two weeks of railing at the heavens, he accepted that he would have to find a consort.

Bobby warned that it would be difficult. These people were usually unaware of their ability, because of its naturally dormant nature. Whenever it manifested itself in the past, the wielder probably just considered himself lucky. It was a protective magic, cushioning falls, or absorbing blows. Bobby had ways of seeking them out, though. He set out. A month later, he had found three suitable candidates.

Dean dreaded meeting them. Part of him still hoped the whole situation would go away. The clouds would part, the rain would stop, and he would no longer need a consort. He didn’t want to meet these people. Despite his numerous sexual encounters, and a few failed courtings, he had never found anyone he wanted to spend more than a few months with. Now, due to his spiking powers, he would have to bind himself to a stranger, forever.

So earlier this morning he had been brought to the main hall of the Winchester Castle, where three people waited. The first was a pretty blond female who could not have been more than 16 years old. Dean was accustomed to admiration, but she looked at him with a slavish devotion. While he was comfortable receiving devotion from the masses, he could hardly imagine dealing with it on an intimate basis for the rest of his life. 

The second was a woman with raven hair, who simpered and flirted, but still, he didn’t feel any of the pull Bobby assured him would come naturally. 

But the third…The third one was a dark haired man about his age with the bluest eyes Dean had ever seen. He met Dean’s gaze naturally, eyes hard and his full lips tight with skepticism. While Dean was transfixed, this man looked…unimpressed? Dean racked his brain, tried to remember what he had been told about this man. He was the fourth son of some minor lord in the outer territories. And this man had the nerve to look at Dean Winchester, like he was the one with a choice in this matter? Like it wouldn’t be a supreme honor to be chosen by him? They stared at each other for several minutes, until the other man apparently grew conscious of the silence and slid his gaze away. 

Dean smirked. He hadn’t blinked first. He reached out and turned the man’s head back towards him. He needed to make it clear, for some reason, that he was the one doing the evaluating here. As soon as his hand grazed the stubbled cheek, Dean felt his bonding energy pulse in him. It was a revelation, an almost sandpapery feeling inside of him, abrasive, filling him with want and need. Possessiveness knifed through him. He had a sudden, insane vision of taking the man right here in the Hall, with all the others watching. He pulled back quickly before he could give in to the temptation to do just that. Then he turned to Sam and nodded. That was all he needed to do. His brother understood. 

And now that man, Castiel, was alone with him, and in a perfect state for Dean to claim him. Castiel was wandering across the room again. His altered state was no doubt the result of the wine he’d been given that had been doctored with herbs. He was pliant. But now that the moment had come, Dean was hesitant. He couldn’t help but wish they had time for an actual conversation before this. But they didn’t have time for arguments. Dean needed this man, and he would have him.

Dean sighed as he approached the man and turned him around. Castiel’s vacant gaze fixed on Dean’s chin. Dean clenched his jaw as he started to remove the other man’s clothes. He was used to a bit more enthusiasm in his lovers, a bit more appreciation, but he supposed that it couldn’t be helped.

As Dean pulled off the man’s tunic, Castiel’s already wide eyes widened further, as if he had no idea that these clothes were not a part of him. He stroked his bare skin as if it were a revelation, like he had never felt it before. Watching the slow path of the man’s hand down his chest and stomach spurred Dean to undress him faster. He pushed the man over to the bed and down on it. Castiel moaned and arched, clearly reveling in the sensation of his naked back on the silk sheets. Dean hurriedly pulled off his boots and breeches. 

He took a moment to gaze at the now-naked man stretched out across his bed. The bonding energy pulsed within him again. He momentarily debated taking the man right there. This sprawling, sensual creature seemed to be begging for it. But he then looked across the room and saw the contraption that Bobby had brought to him earlier. Bobby had been warned that consorts usually became resistant during the bonding process. It was better for them, Bobby had said, to be restrained.

This kneeler, if it could be called that, had been designed by some long ago sorcerer for the initial communing of consorts. It was actually more like a low table, with shelf-like recesses cut into opposite sides, adorned by slightly worn leather straps. As Dean lead Castiel over to it and guided him to kneel on the shelf on one side of the wooden platform, he prayed silently that Bobby knew his stuff. There were carved grooves with padding for the man’s knees and shins, and leather straps to secure his ankles and thighs. Castiel gave no resistance when Dean maneuvered him into position. 

After fastening the silver buckles, Dean stood. Castiel’s firm ass, sprinkled with fine dark hairs, was presented to him in such a way that Dean‘s power pulsed again. That sandpapery feeling was back, grating at every cell in his body, clamoring to claim. He felt lightheaded. 

He hurriedly moved to the front of the table and took Castiel’s hands. He quickly fastened the leather straps around his wrists. While he was doing this, he was overcome with the need for more contact, and found some relief in some long kisses from the other man’s lips. Castiel leaned into the kisses completely, moaning softly.

Dean spent a moment just staring at the sight before him. His consort was naked, tied, and ready to receive him. The dark leather stood out against the paleness of the other man’s skin. A rush of supreme satisfaction seized Dean. He slowly dragged his hand down the man’s bare back and dipped his fingers into the crevice between his buttocks. Castiel leaned into the touch like a cat. Yes, this man would be his before the night was over.

Dean pulled at his belt. He jerked it open and pulled at his breeches, then swore softly to himself when he realized in his eagerness he had forgotten to remove his boots first. He stumbled to a chair in the corner of the room and pulled off his boots and shirt. The cool night air on his skin seemed to intensify everything he was feeling. Castiel had discovered that his hands were bound and was now pulling at the leather straps bemusedly, his head cocked to the side as if he had no idea how he had gotten this way. The muscles in his back and arms rippled in his futile efforts. Dean stopped and stared, his mouth watering at the sight. He reached down and grasped his own dick, already hard and curving up towards his stomach. He sat there for a moment, rubbing himself and staring. 

Moisture pearled at the tip, and Dean collected a large bead of it on his thumb. Then, kicking away his breeches, he crossed the room and smeared his seed across Castiel’s lips, dipping his thumb inside the other man’s mouth. Castiel balked a bit. His eyes rolled up to meet Dean’s, Dean’s thumb still in his mouth.

Dean’s dick hardened further at this sight. Spurred into action, he stepped back and grabbed the small dish of lubricant set on a nearby table and approached Castiel. He scooped up a small amount. Using one finger, he slowly probed the man’s opening. Castiel whined at the intrusion and turned his head towards Dean questioningly. Dean pushed a second finger in and Castiel growled softly. Dean’s breath caught at the feel of the man’s velvety inner heat around his fingers. 

He spent several long minutes opening Castiel up, gently scissoring his fingers. He didn’t want to tear or hurt him any more than absolutely necessary. Slowly probing, he ran his other hand down the other man’s flanks. When Castiel took the addition of a third finger without complaint, Dean began to angle them, pressing and searching.

He knew his had found what he was looking for when Castiel’s whole body tensed and he yelped. Dean smiled as he continued without mercy to stroke that small spot. Castiel writhed in his bonds as small birdlike cries were torn from his lips.

These sounds were too much for Dean. He was trembling with desire. He could not wait any longer. He was no longer thinking about bonding, or his magic, or anything other than his desire to have this man under him. To bury himself in that rich, velvety heat. He withdrew his fingers and scooped up more lube from the dish on the side table. He slicked himself up quickly, afraid the stimulation of his own hand was going to push him over the edge. He then guided his dick to the man’s entrance. He took a deep breath and pushed in quickly. Dean felt his eyes cross from the sensation as the head of his dick popped inside Castiel’s hot channel. Castiel cried out at the intrusion, then howled as Dean gripped his hips forcefully and pushed himself all the way in.

Outside the sky was turning black. Thunder rumbled threateningly. 

Dean’s power was tangible. He could feel it coursing through his veins. Once seated completely in the other man, he felt Castiel’s dormant power rise up and rub against his. The sensation was so alien, so strange it made him gasp. It felt almost liquid, a dense coolness rushing around his overheated body. Dean stood for a moment, still a statue, hands still clamped on Castiel’s hips while their respective energies felt each other out. 

Castiel was whimpering quietly to himself, clearly overwhelmed by this physical and mental invasion. His body was trembling. Dean tried to offer some comfort to the other man, slowly running a hand up and down his back. Suddenly, though, Castiel’s head snapped up and his shoulders twisted sharply, trying to throw Dean off. The table squeaked alarmingly.

Dean was forced to grip the man’s shoulders to regain his balance. He felt the other man’s magic rise up and try to resist. Bobby was right when he said that the consort would try to resist the claim. This wasn’t going to be easy.

Dean couldn’t help smiling to himself. True, it wasn’t a fair fight. There was no way he wasn’t going to win. The other man was his already, bound and spread out before him. But Dean was glad Castiel was not going to surrender himself easily. He was going to make Dean work for it. Dean tightened his grip on the his shoulders, slowly pulled almost all the way out, and then just as slowly pushed back. He groaned as he felt Castiel’s body try to resist him. His magic pushed at the other man, wanting to claim but he was stubbornly resisted. 

Castiel jerked and struggled with his bonds, but could make no headway. “Stop,” he mumbled. “I can’t…Oh…”

Dean leaned over and dropped a kiss at the back of the other man’s neck, then continued to slowly thrust in and out of his body. He wasn’t immune to Castiel’s situation. Dean knew that this had to be awful for him, but once this was over there would be plenty of time to make it up to him.

Dean himself was eager for this match, eager to show Castiel that he was a dominant force that could overwhelm him if necessary. Slowly, steadily, he proceeded to mark his claim. Each thrust seemed to bring them closer, but still Castiel fought him. Sweat broke out across both of their bodies, running down Castiel’s sides and down Dean’s forehead into his eyes.

Dean felt the resisting energy get weaker. It was like swimming against a current that was slowly lessening. He wrapped a hand around the other man neck, not squeezing, but letting him feel a slight pressure. Castiel was claimed. There was no way out of it. He was Dean’s.

Something rushed through him. He suddenly felt more powerful than he ever had before. Why, again, had he tried to resist this? He let out a primal moan, answered by Castiel. He had thought he would be tethering himself to another, but no, this was more like finding some lost part of himself, some part he had never known existed before. 

He felt the exact moment that Castiel capitulated. The other man’s head lowered with a pitiful moan. The tide had turned, and it felt like Dean was swimming with the current now, being pushed towards the shore by a mighty wave. A great rush of energy poured out of him and plunged into the other man. Dean could feel every cell in their bodies, from the soles of Castiel’s bound feet to the sweat damp hair on top of his own head. He could feel their hearts pounding in unison. Felt the other man’s breaths. 

Dean wrapped his arms around Castiel’s shoulders and buried his face in between his shoulder blades. He couldn’t stop the smile spreading across his face. He was whole again and completely in control of himself. He was buried in his consort and he felt truly right, for the first time in ages.

“You belong to me, now,” he whispered into the other man’s back.

Dean was suddenly submerged by thoughts and feelings that were not his own. Anger, shame, but most of all, fear. It took him a moment to realize that they were Castiel’s. Dean could feel the tumult of emotions between them. It gave him a moment’s pause. Castiel had been invaded and claimed, and now he was helpless. Dean felt his stark fear, and was embarrassed to be the cause of it. Dean tried to push reassurance into the bond, tried to send his feeling to the other man. It felt natural and foreign all at once, like suddenly discovering a limb you had never known was attached to you before. 

After a moment or two like that, Dean felt Castiel’s panic lessen a bit. Dean pressed a few more kisses on his neck and between his shoulder blades, then pushed himself up. He placed his hands back on Castiel’s hips, pushing in deep again.

“You back with me?” he asked.

“Urgh…” Castiel moaned, then jerked and started pulling at his bonds with a renewed force. “Let me up.” 

Dean leaned down to kiss the other man neck. “Shhh, we’re not done yet.”

Once again he began to push in and out of the other man. His energy swirled around both of them, wrapping them tightly. Dean felt another wave of euphoria and the bond between them began to thrum. This time, with no resistance from Castiel, it was pleasure that was pushed back and forth between them. He could feel it radiating from the man below him. 

Dean looked down and watched his dick disappearing into his consort’s body, full, and purpling at the tip. Their feelings were seemingly magnified with each thrust. Dean angled his dick so it pressed against the spot he had discovered earlier. Castiel cried out with each thrust, and soon they were both spiraling out of control. Dean felt Castiel climax beneath him and it pulled him over the edge. He spilled himself into the other man, claiming Castiel’s physical body as well as his soul.

Dean shuddered and buried his face into Castiel’s shoulder. After he had caught his breath, he managed a smile. “Gods, that was hot.”

“Get me out of this thing,” his new consort ordered, his voice rough.

Dean chuckled, dropped another kiss on the sweaty skin and slowly got up. He undid the straps from Castiel’s ankles and thighs, frowning at the red marks on the delicate skin. He ran his hands over them gently, then leaned over and unbuckled the straps from Castiel’s wrists.

“Get up slowly,” he warned.

Dean was half expecting what happened next. Castiel got to his feet and swung around. Dean easily blocked the fist that was aiming for his face. Castiel stumbled as he tried to bring his fists up again. Dean grabbed Castiel’s wrist and pulled him off balance again, and quickly managed to grab his other wrist. He pinned them behind Castiel’s back, taking care to contain him, but not to hurt him. Dean didn’t want any more bruises on that fair skin.

“Hey, hey, easy now,” he chided, trying to push some reassurance through their bond. He saw his mate’s conflicted feelings all reflected in his captivating blue eyes. Dean couldn’t help promising himself that the next time he claimed his mate he would take Castiel on his back, so he could stare into those eyes the whole time.

“Shhhh, shhh…It’s okay.” He released Castiel’s wrists, and wrapped him in his arms, forcing the other man’s head to rest on his shoulder. “You’re okay. I am going to take care of you.” He wrapped an arm around Castiel’s waist and slowly stroked his other hand down the sweat soaked body. 

He felt the other man try to resist him, tensing and pulling back, but after a moment Castiel sagged in Dean’s arms. Dean could feel the exhaustion rolling off him in waves.

Dean pressed another soft kiss to Castiel’s temple and ran his fingers through the dark hair. Yes, his mate might be a bit angry and overwhelmed at the moment, but Dean would make it up to him. Castiel would have his every whim catered to for the rest of their lives. Dean would make sure he had the best of everything.

“You belong to me now,” he repeated. “I’m going to take care of you.”

After spending another minute murmuring reassurances into a silent Castiel’s ear, Dean gently began to steer him into the bathing chamber. “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.”

Dean felt Castiel’s indecision for a moment, then Castiel’s shoulders slumped and he allowed himself to be guided into the other room. He didn’t seem to notice or care that he was completely naked, with Dean’s come running down the back of his legs.

Dean’s bathing chamber had been updated with all the modern advancements. The toilet and sink both had running water, but the great wooden tub in the center still had to be filled by hand, and the servants had brought up the water hours ago. 

Castiel reached in to test the water. “It’s cold,” he observed, his voice flat and disinterested. 

Dean could not help showing off a bit for his new mate. “I can fix that.” 

And he did. With a wave of his arm, his power surged and suddenly steam rose from the water. 

Castiel’s eyes widened slightly at this casual display of power. He glanced back at Dean and his lips tightened. He leaned in and felt the water again.

“Go on, get in.” Dean grasped the other man’s elbow and helped him into the tub. 

Castiel’s eyes closed and he moaned quietly with pleasure as he leaned back against the tub.

Dean fetched a wet washcloth and soap from the basin. He quickly sponged himself off and wrapped himself in a robe. He then knelt by the side of the tub and set about washing his mate, slowly drawing the sponge down Castiel’s chest and over his shoulders. Dean brushed his hand over the thick stubble on the man’s face. “Do you want me to shave you now, or would you rather wait until the morning?”

Castiel leaned into Dean’s hand but made no response.

“Castiel?”

Castiel’s eyes drifted open. “What?” he slurred. 

Dean couldn’t resist the urge to lean in to kiss him. Castiel obediently opened his lips to receive the kiss, but didn’t make any move to kiss him back. Dean wasn’t sure if this was because of his exhausted state or his remaining anger. Well, there would be plenty of time to work on that later.

Dean broke the kiss. “Lean up.” 

Castiel obeyed, and Dean slowly lathered and sponged off his back. “Now stand up.”

Castiel groaned in response. Dean chuckled, then added softly, “Come on, up! After I’m done we can go to bed.”

Castiel gripped the edges of the tub and shakily got to his feet. Dean brought the sponge over the shapely ass he had just plundered and down Castiel’s legs. He slowly drew his hand over the now fading red marks from the straps. Castiel shivered, and Dean’s cock twitched in response. He wanted to lean forward and kiss those red marks. Later, he promised himself. Right now, he didn’t want Castiel to catch a chill.

Dean helped Castiel step from the tub and slowly rubbed him dry with a soft towel. Castiel stood quietly and wrapped his arms around himself. Dean led him back to the bed and pulled down the blankets.

“Is this where I am sleeping?” Castiel asked with a yawn.

“Right here, with me,” Dean answered. 

“My clothes?” Castiel sat on the bed. 

“I’ll keep you warm,” Dean said with a smile.

Castiel didn’t respond to that, and after a second his exhaustion seemed to overcome him. He dropped on the bed, and Dean tucked him in. He took a moment to savor the sight of his new mate in his bed, already half asleep. Perhaps this claiming had not been ideal, but Dean felt confident he would soon make it up to his mate. Castiel would be pampered and never want for anything for the rest of his life. Dean ran his hand over the dark head once more, and then crawled in beside him. The heavy covers surrounded them in a cocoon of warmth. Dean reached over and ran his hand through Castiel’s still damp hair, then pressed a final kiss on his forehead. Outside, the rain had finally stopped.


End file.
